Max Headroom - Lash
by ElegantButler
Summary: Roughly two years after the events in The Skeleton in Edison's Closet, Lash protects the children of the Fringes with whip and claw.


Max Headroom/Sprawl Crossover

Lash

by Elegant Butler

-Chapter One-

Max Headroom/Sprawl Crossover

Lash

by Elegant Butler

-Chapter One-

An old dog whined as some poor soul shared a plate slightly burnt rat with it. One street over, the shouts of a woman, recently relieved of her purse, went unheeded by criminal and cop.

Eyes watched, as they always did. Help was sometimes offered. But never interference. There was a kind of pecking order in the Fringes, and everyone was careful not to step on the wrong toes. If word got out that you were a do-gooder, it was time to kiss both your ass and your street-cred goodbye. So the Blanks and the others who lived out beyond the comforts of the protected city would offer a meal or a coat if needed. But none of them would go after the stolen purse.

There were crimes that did not go unpunished in the Fringes. Blanks were very protective of their children, and anyone who tried to hurt one a Blank child was swiftly dealt with. Not just by the parents, but also by those whom the family had a close connection with.

And then there was Lash.

Lash was just shy of eighteen. Having been living in the Fringes since a week short of his seventeenth birthday, he'd quickly taken on the role of protector. It was a role he took seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he had gone in for the razor-nail surgery which up until then had only been requested by women just after he had turned seventeen. Despite this, his weapon of choice was still the cat-o-nine-tails he wore coiled around one leg.

Despite his youth, and slight build, there was something about him that warned off even the more vicious Fringers, even before he showed them his claws. Once Lash did decide to show his claws, whoever was nearby knew they were going to get cut.

Tonight Lash stood on the ridge of Sunset Hill, where the Blanks had once played a dangerous game with the captains of the TV industry. The full moon was high above the city he looked out upon.

Sometimes he watched Network 23, keeping an eye from a distance on the gleaming skyscraper that he knew he would never enter again.

Two years ago, he'd been the last person anyone would've seen at the modification clinics. Back then he'd been Head of Research and Development at Network 23. He had been aware that violence existed, of course. As best friend and assistant to Edison Carter he had seen his share of punches being thrown. He'd even been locked in a thermal testing chamber and left to freeze to death. But even that had been a tame way for someone to commit murder.

Then Addison Carter, the twin whom Edison had never acknowledged, had come into life. Pretending to be Edison he had taken advantage of Bryce's feelings for the reporter to trick him into accepting his twisted desires as an act of affection. Bryce hadn't learned the truth until Edison's announcement of engagement to an old flame had caused the young genius to leave Network 23 in a moment of extreme emotion.

There is a thing called rotten coincidence by some which causes people to do things like fall and break their arm right after getting the cast taken off their leg. It had been in full force that night as Bryce's aimless running had taken him right to Addison. This time, Addison had not hidden his true identity. Instead, he'd taken Bryce using coercion. Threatening to hurt those of Bryce's generation who were trapped in the Fringes, Addison had abused Bryce twice more before Edison had found them.

It had been during Bryce's stay at the hospital that he had decided to become a Blank and to leave his former life behind forever. Checking himself out, he'd gone to the two most dangerous men in the Fringes, Breughal and Mahler, and had asked for their help. They had trained him in self-defense and the brutal style of self-confidence needed to survive in the Fringes. And they had changed his look from business casual to what Breughal liked to call dire punk. Breughal had said, as Bryce had left the grey van no longer as Bryce Lynch, but as Lash, "Henry Higgins would be right proud of me."

Now, fingers that once caressed a keyboard now had the blood of a few dozen rather nasty men on them. He had even killed one man. A deed that he did not regret, given that the man had been dragging Mink, a Blank Girl ten years his junior, into an alley at the time.

Having once known the pain he knew the girl would feel a hundred times worse if he did nothing, Lash had tripped the man up with the whip. Looking into the leering face reminded him of his own violation. But he felt no fear. Instead, inspired by the training he'd undergone with Breughal, he looked into the man's eyes with eyes filled with hate beyond hate before digging all ten claws into his throat.

Mink had gotten away and had not seen the kill. That was okay with Lash. It relieved him to know she would grow up slightly shaken, but guilt-free.

An old dog whined as some poor soul shared a plate slightly burnt rat with it. One street over, the shouts of a woman, recently relieved of her purse, went unheeded by criminal and cop.

Eyes watched, as they always did. Help was sometimes offered. But never interference. There was a kind of pecking order in the Fringes, and everyone was careful not to step on the wrong toes. If word got out that you were a do-gooder, it was time to kiss both your ass and your street-cred goodbye. So the Blanks and the others who lived out beyond the comforts of the protected city would offer a meal or a coat if needed. But none of them would go after the stolen purse.

There were crimes that did not go unpunished in the Fringes. Blanks were very protective of their children, and anyone who tried to hurt one a Blank child was swiftly dealt with. Not just by the parents, but also by those whom the family had a close connection with.

And then there was Lash.

Lash was just shy of eighteen. Having been living in the Fringes since a week short of his seventeenth birthday, he'd quickly taken on the role of protector. It was a role he took seriously. So seriously, in fact, that he had gone in for the razor-nail surgery which up until then had only been requested by women just after he had turned seventeen. Despite this, his weapon of choice was still the cat-o-nine-tails he wore coiled around one leg.

Despite his youth, and slight build, there was something about him that warned off even the more vicious Fringers, even before he showed them his claws. Once Lash did decide to show his claws, whoever was nearby knew they were going to get cut.

Tonight Lash stood on the ridge of Sunset Hill, where the Blanks had once played a dangerous game with the captains of the TV industry. The full moon was high above the city he looked out upon.

Sometimes he watched Network 23, keeping an eye from a distance on the gleaming skyscraper that he knew he would never enter again.

Fingers that once caressed a keyboard now had the blood of a few dozen rather nasty men on them. He had even killed one man. A deed that he did not regret, given that the man had been dragging Mink, a Blank Girl ten years his junior, into an alley at the time.

Having once known the pain he knew the girl would feel a hundred times worse if he did nothing, Lash had tripped the man up with the whip. Looking into the leering face reminded him of his own violation. But he felt no fear. Instead, inspired by the training he'd undergone with Breughal, he looked into the man's eyes with eyes filled with hate beyond hate before digging all ten claws into his throat.

Mink had gotten away and had not seen the kill. That was okay with Lash. It relieved him to know she would grow up slightly shaken, but guilt free.


End file.
